The crowd roars as Khali strides purposefully through the audience, climbs up toward the ring, and effortlessly steps over the top rope.

Eugene cowers in a corner, looking almost childlike next to this behemoth.

The "match" lasts less than three minutes.

Over the next three hours (that's right-- three hours) various heroes and villains parade into the ring and face off. And while there are some fun, wildly acrobatic moments, there's mostly a whole lot of really bad acting.

Despite this, Joseph is having a blast.

As the main event is about to begin, the crowd gets to their feet and begins shouting and chanting the name of the star attraction.

"CENA! CENA! CENA!"

I'm standing on tiptoes trying to get a look at this guy, when I feel a light tap on my arm.

"Mom, I'm tired," Joseph says, then leaning on me suddenly, "and I have a headache."

"Honey, do you feel low?"

"I... I don't know."

While everyone around us remains on their feet -- cheering Cena on as he marches toward the ring -- Joseph slides back down into his seat.

Even in the dim arena light he looks terribly pale.

"Honey, let's check your sugar," I say, feeling a rising panic.

He's 95.

Which wouldn't be bad, except that he's dropped more than 50 points from when we checked just ten minutes earlier.

That's way too fast.

"Bud, take three glucose tabs."

As I watch him eat the tabs, I'm wishing I could just get him out of here now (he looks that bad).

But the arena is dark; the aisles, packed with people.

"Mom, can I take another tab?" Joseph asks in a shaky voice.

"Go ahead, Bud."

I ask him several times over the next ten minutes if he's feeling better.

"A little," is all he tells me.

When the lights finally go up, we gather our coats and make our way across the crowded arena floor toward the high staircase that leads to the exits.

Thank God.

My stomach in knots, I walk behind Joseph while Ryan leads the way.

As we join the river of people already climbing the stairs, Joseph turns his head and says weakly, "Mom, I just wanna go home, I'm really, really tired and my head hurts."

Then he begins climbing.

A few seconds later, halfway up the staircase, he slips-- his face connecting with the stairs.

"Joseph!" I shout, my heart in my throat.

Grabbing onto one of his arms, I pull him to his feet.

"Are you all right?"

"No . . . no, Mom," he cries, "I just wanna go home."

There's some blood on one of his front teeth.

"Honey, does anything hurt?" I reach out and touch his face. "You're bleeding a little."

"I hit my mouth on the metal part of the stairs," he says, through tears.

"It's okay . . . you're gonna be okay . . . "

And then, frightened that his blood sugar might be taking a nose dive, I say:

". . . maybe we should check your sugar- "

"No, no, I'm sick of sticking myself! I'm just tired. I just wanna go to bed."

Ryan looks at me, mouthing the words "Let's go."

He's right-- we've got to get him out of this swarming crowd.

I turn back to Joseph-- "It's gonna be all right, Bud-- we just need to get to the car."

Holding onto him, I help him up the rest of the stairs, and then on out into the sub-zero cold.

A few long minutes later, we pile into the car, thankful to get out of the biting wind-- and away from all of those people.

Not long after buckling up, Joseph falls asleep.

Although his blood sugar is 111 when we arrive home, he's still not feeling right. I give him a snack and sit with him for a while before settling him into bed.

And then I can't sleep. I'm just so worried and angry about what happened. About all the other nights he's not gonna feel right -- or worse -- because of this damnable disease.

Damned disease. I just know EXACTLY what Joseph was feeling on those stairs - desperately wanting to feel better, not wanting to be reminded of diabetes with ANOTHER finger stick. Damned disease.

Sometimes, you just want to be tired - just because you're tired, you want to feel off - just because you're having an off day - I find myself thinking often "why does every off feeling I have seem to relate to diabetes??"

I wish there was something to say that would make it better - I know in my heart there's really not. Again though, I'm glad you (and I) have this place to come where at least we're not standing alone - no matter how much it might feel like we are sometimes. At least we can feel assured that there are people who understand - people who want to scream right along with us.

I guess I’ve never hated diabetes either, not in myself. With Gracie though, the pain with her is pretty intense. I never knew diabetes caused emotions like that. My mom mentioned the other day that she was blown away when I was diagnosed. She just never expected it. I hope Joseph starts feelin better soon.

Tears came to my eyes when I read that Joseph missed a step and hurt his mouth. To be so damned wiped out from a low and to end a wonderful night with a low point really sucks. I hope Joseph considered it a good night afterall.

Sandra,My 21-month-old daughter was diagnosed a week ago today. While reading your post has scared me to death, it has also been a real comfort to find your blog. I appreciate you and your son for sharing your experiences. My best to you and your family.Paige

I'm so sorry you had to go through such a scary experience. It's such a sad and unfortunate truth that diabetes makes us miss some things in life and makes us feel so bad that life itself has no interest anymore. I wish you and your son all the best! And screaming helps, as loud as you can.

With us it was arenacross. Casey (then 7) wanted to go so badly that his big brother bought tickets for his birthday. Casey "slept" through almost all of it. Was diagnosed days later. I HATE DIABETES!! I would never think of second guessing God, but I do have some serious questions when I see him.

I agree with some of the other commenters - as a diabetic myself, I don't think I've ever hated it. That would be akin to hating a part of myself, which I feel would be self-destructive.

And while I do think it sucks tremendously at times and can be so frightening, I have always thought it's harder on the families of diabetics. I would do anything to take this burden away from my parents, just as I know they would do anything to take it from me.

Strange feeling, to wish it away for someone else. Of course, I don't want it either. But I wish it away for you, Sandra. And for Shannon. For Julia. For Dee. For all the other parents.

My son has type 1 diabetes too. He is 11 years old and got tickets to a similiar event for Christmas. He had a good time and I was the nagging mom reminding him to pack take his meter and glucose tabs with him.

I'm so sorry D stepped in and ruined the end of the night for Joseph. But, like you said, he's an amazing boy and despite the low that kicked him in the butt, he still had a fabulous time :)

I despise how this disease can step in and do this to a person when you're trying to enjoy yourself. I don't blame him for protesting another "stick" either. I just hate that it has to be this way for our children.

I feel like a 3 year old throwing a tantrum and screaming, "It's not FAIR!!"

I've shed many tears because I have had to have people remind me about fun events because I don't remember them, or was confused during them so the memories are skewed.Dam diabetes. Sorry to Joseph. But kids with diabetes are so tough. I'm sure he is remembering the excitement of it all, and has pushed the diabetes crap to the side.

About this Blog

About Me

I'm a mom of two children-- a 9-year old girl and a 16-year old young man. In addition, I've been vice president of a marketing company; a full-time student (English major); a product services manager for a financial publisher; a childbirth instructor and birth assistant; an aspiring sculptor; and most recently, director of information services and outreach for a non-profit government watchdog group-- in exactly that order.